


Morning Routine

by NotPersephone



Series: Count and Countess Lecter [6]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post Season 3, happy marrieds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 09:30:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13714845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/pseuds/NotPersephone
Summary: “Don’t you have enough drawings of me?” Bedelia comments but shifts slightly to make herself more comfortable in this position.Hannibal opens the sketchbook, looking almost confused as if not understanding the question.“I do not,” he responds at last as his pencil has already begun to trace her shapes on paper.





	Morning Routine

Bedelia wakes up unexpectedly, her face half enfolded by the pillow, soft cotton around her languid body. Whatever dreams she had, evaporate from her mind without a trace. Even without opening her eyes, she can tell it is early. And the bed feels unusually cold. Her hand reaches over to the other side of the large mattress at once, but instead of encountering desired warm skin, her fingers skim over a cool sheet. She frowns, a sudden crease on her forehead and slowly opens one eye. It falls on the empty space next to her, clearly responsible for her premature awakening.

Her other senses soon follow, stirring from their slumber. There is no sound disturbing the bedroom; the tranquil stillness of the castle is one the things Bedelia enjoys the most. It reflects the peace of its residents, the comfortable silence of a contended minds and joyous hearts.

A pleasant aroma of roasted coffee beans drifts into her nostrils. She finally opens her eyes fully and turns to see a glass of perfectly brewed brown liquid waiting on her bedside table. The coffee is still steaming hot, as if Hannibal knew exactly when she would wake up. She props herself up on her forearm and takes the glass. The smooth and crisp flavour lingers on her tongue as she takes a sip; it is made just the way she likes it, as always. Yet it does not excuse him from waking her up. Her eyes scrutinize the landscape outside the tall window. The forest remains in the dark with just a tiny smudge of orange beginning to swell behind the tree line. It is _very early_.

Setting the glass on the table, she lies back and begins to unfold her drowsy muscles, unwilling to move yet. Finally, Hannibal enters the bedroom, looking wide awake, and Bedelia stops mid-stretch, giving him a scorning look.

“Good morning,” he tries to supress his smile, but no doubt finding her discontent endearing. His eyes slowly follow her body splayed on the bed, its curves still carelessly draped in cotton. It is a composition he has committed to memory time and time again; Bedelia imagines an entire room in his mind with walls covered by this framed image of her alone.

“It is too _early_ to tell,” she retorts, but her gaze mirrors his, enjoying the glimpses of his naked body, visible through his open robe.

Hannibal’s smile cannot hide any longer, enjoying her sharp tongue as much as her wanting stare. Bedelia continues to stretch in turn, ignoring his grin. Her hand reaches over her head and her toes press forward, elongating her legs and pulling the sheet off her body, which exposes the soft mounds of her breasts and the gentle curve of her back.

“Do not move,” Hannibal says at once, his eyes becoming wider. He leaves the room, only to return a minute later with his sketchbook and pencils. He takes the chair from her vanity and places it next to the window, his favourite spot due to the natural light pouring into the room and on his muse.

“Don’t you have enough drawings of me?” Bedelia comments but shifts slightly to make herself more comfortable in this position.

Hannibal opens the sketchbook, looking almost confused as if not understanding the question.

“I do not,” he responds at last as his pencil has already begun to trace her shapes on paper.

“I am sure you are more than capable of recreating the image of me from memory,” she presses on, but the affection returns to her voice. Her skin suddenly tingles at the thought of his lips and fingertips repeatedly mapping each speck of her body with meticulous care and affection.

“Yes, but this so much more enjoyable,” Hannibal looks up from his sketchbook, “For both of us,” he adds with a roguish smile.

Bedelia moves gently, her cheek pressing against the softness of the pillow, her limbs lengthening along the silken fabric of the sheets. Her skin is more sensitive and her breasts feel more tender under his ardent stare, nipples straining in need of further attention. She smiles in quiet accord.

Silence falls between them as Hannibal continues to commit her body to paper. The gentle sound of pencil moving on sheet is soothing, his hand remains precise and his eyes study her curves with profound adoration.

The dawn sets off in full and the first rays on the morning sun slip through the window, slowly sweeping the bed and Bedelia’s body.

“Perfect,” Hannibal comments with a delighted smile as the golden light exalts the natural glow of her skin.

“Did you wake me up only because of the light?” she counters.

“Of course, not. But it is wonderful to witness the light adoring you as much as I do,” his smile grows brighter, matching the intensity of his dilated eyes.

Bedelia gives him a disbelieving look but smiles back nonetheless. Soft scratching of the graphite continues as the rising sun slowly traces the length of her body, still resting idly.

Soon the sound and the stillness make her feel drowsy again.

“Hannibal, I think that is enough for now,” she tries to get his attention, but he seems deeply engrossed in his piece, no doubt working on the most important, finishing touches.

“Hannibal, I am cold.” The pencil stops at once. Hannibal places his sketchbook aside and returns to bed in a split second.

Sliding to his side, he lies on his back, inviting her to move closer and she nestles next to him in no time, her head finding her favourite spot on his chest, one that fits her cheek perfectly. Her hand soon follows, nimble fingers stroking his chest hair almost absentmindedly. Hannibal covers her hand with his, wanting to ensure she is snug.

“Your skin feels warm,” he says with certain hesitation, still worried, but becoming slowly aware that he has been tricked.

Bedelia’s only reply is to sigh and press herself closer to him, her leg draped over his, her body languid once more, savouring his heat.

“Do not move,” she murmurs against his skin, making him laugh softly. His fingers brush over the length of her hair and then down her spine, a feather like touch, relaxing her further.

“Never,” Hannibal responds at once. He continues the tender caress as she drifts back to sleep, cosy and serene.

The sun settles itself in the sky above the castle, announcing the arrival of the new day, but they do not intend to leave the bed any time soon.

**Author's Note:**

> An expansion of my headcanon about Hannibal drawing his Countess naked all the time. Another small glimpse into their life in Lecter Castle, they are my favourite to write.


End file.
